


Intoxicated Idiocies

by ChewyKookie



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bar Fight, F/M, rivamika prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:27:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChewyKookie/pseuds/ChewyKookie
Summary: At this point, Mikasa was trying to survive the night. He, on the other hand, was preventing her from possible head trauma.(captain-kat-celestial asked: Levi and Mikasa meet in a bar fight?)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt from tumblr. Warning: bad attempt at humor awaits you. On that note, enjoy!

Let's go out drinking, she'd said.

It'll be _fun_ , she'd said.

The sight of drunken patrons beating each other half to death, begged to differ.

Mikasa stood off to the side, watching in grim silence as a particular pair managed to crash into- and simultaneously destroy- the pool table to her left. At this point, the bar was nearly at ruins. Whatever sleek and tasteful design that once existed had long since been smashed to bits, though she really couldn't expect less on a late fourth of July night. She had to admit, the American spirit was truly a spectacular sight. 

As the riot around her continued to escalate, she couldn't help but purse her lips ruefully. She should have stayed home. It definitely would've been better than being stuck in the middle of a bar fight, with half her friends drunk beyond repair and the other half either thriving or fleeing from the cloud of testosterone before her.

She didn't know why she'd even agreed to go, actually- though it was probably due to those pathetic puppy eyes Sasha had given her when Mikasa refused the first ten times she was asked. _"It's the time to embrace our inner American!"_ she'd said excitedly. Mikasa chose not to mention that she was, in fact, only half american, or that she wasn't much of a drinker either; instead she allowed Sasha to drag her to the drink fest, knowing she'd regret her decision later on. She hadn't expected things to escalate this quickly, though.

The night, she remembered, had actually started out quite pleasantly. It had been nice to meet up with her friends on a off day, somewhat refreshing after being locked up in the office all week, and the get together had been lively, as expected (Sasha devoured the food in two minutes flat, whereas Eren and Jean had gotten buzzed after taking one too many tequila shots). Alas, she knew it'd only be a matter of time before things went south; whenever their group was involved, the peace never lasted too long. As predicted, it was soon shattered by one of the other groups at the bar- dressed in blindingly colorful array of unicorn t-shirts, which made her wonder if the grown men were brony fanatics of some sort- who, in a moment of sheer brilliance, decided to provoke Ymir. Mikasa had known her for years, and generally narrowed the girl down to three things: impressively strong, brutally honest and viciously protective. In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't so surprising that things had gotten so out of hand.

It had taken one wrong look at Ymir and one suggestive touch on Krista's arm for the skirmish to go from senseless goading to an all out brawl. Ymir had made sure to knock the guy's teeth right out of his gums, and seeing a chance to vent out his building excitement, a drunken Eren took the opportunity to savagely tackle another man to the floor. And Jean, being the good sport that he was, decided to settle the 'manliness score' once and for all based on how many people each person could beat up- which somehow got most of the occupants in the place involved. It had all gone downhill from there.

Thankfully, there were no cops arriving anytime soon- though that was probably more or less due to the fact that the bartender was fearfully shielding himself behind the counter. Mikasa felt a rush of sympathy for the man, he would have to clean up the mess the morning after, but such was to be expected on independence day (because apparently getting drunk off their minds is more patriotic to grown men than going out to see fireworks). At least she knew her friends could handle themselves well enough on their own, drunk or otherwise, so she'd let them have their fun.

For now, she was just going to stick with her original plan: wait out the chaos before her- because it had to eventually die down at some point, right?- and valiantly continue nursing the same drink she had held for the past hour. Simple, really, and would probably keep her out of harms way until her peers passed out (she'll probably be designated driver tonight, anyway). Her strategic thinking faltered, however, as a sudden wretched gagging echoed behind her. Curious, she turned her head just in time to see Connie running over to what had been her original seat, and, with growing horror, watched him puke onto what used to be her favorite jacket.

Mikasa grimaced. She _really_ should have stayed home.

Okay, change of plan: find Armin and Eren, and make a quick getaway before anything else of hers was woefully destroyed.

Easing from her position on the wall, she set aside her drink on one of the tables around her- the scarce few that had survived the tragic onslaught of intoxicated individuals- and grabbed her black pumps from where she had stripped them off an hour prior. The night was thankfully starting to die down, most of the fighting having stopped, though there were still a few people looking around for a good brawl. Fortunately, she had been able to avoid any kind of violent confrontation from the drunken patrons. After the second guy she had swiftly knocked out for trying to cop a feel, she'd almost been avoided like the plague. Almost.

The woman stiffened as, for what felt like the millionth time that night, she felt foreign arms loop around her waist and stale, alcoholic breath whisper sweet nothings into her ear. Normally, she prided herself on being a level headed individual, but right now her patience was just about worn thin. It was at that moment, as she rammed her fist ruthlessly and remorselessly into the man's face, that Mikasa decided she was never letting Sasha rope her into anything like this again. Ever. Stepping over the man's subdued figure without so much as a glance, she allowed her grey eyes to scan her surroundings.

For once, her brother wasn't the prime target. It had taken time and a bit of self control, but over the years she had come to be less protective of him as she had been when they were kids. Nowadays, she had taken to letting him make his own decisions (no matter how questionable they may be) and checking up on him from afar. Right now, though, he wasn't her priority. Eren, she knew, was actually fairly good in fist fights (though it wasn't all that surprising- his girlfriend had been his coach, after all) so she wasn't all that worried about him for the time being. And if worse came to worse, Annie was there to keep her boyfriend from killing himself. No, it wasn't Eren she was worried about…

Eyes searching for one person in particular, Mikasa quickly swept her gaze through the crowd until it stilled on a familiar head of blonde hair, hiding behind an upturned table across the room. As if on cue, Armin's face peaked out cautiously- if not a little fearfully- from the makeshift fort he'd decided to use as cover, effectively keeping himself out of harms way. Smart, she thought with a mix of pride and relief, but she expected nothing less from the genius; alas, despite his unfaltering wisdom, he often ended up becoming a human punching bag when barbaric situations arose (she would know; she'd been his unofficial bodyguard since the tender age of ten, not that she really minded- it felt good to be needed, be the reasons violent or otherwise). Wasting no time, she walked steadily and swiftly to him, weaving expertly through the throng of people keeping her from her goal. Taking a breath, she prepared to call out his name-

\- and gasped in alarm as she felt a harsh tug from behind. Caught off guard, the heels fell from her hands and clattered to the floor before she got a hold on her bearings and, more importantly, her balance. For a stubborn moment she refused to budge from her stance, but in response the grip on her scarf only pulled harder. Grimacing, she allowed herself to fall backwards- lest she choke herself, because, really, what kind of death would that be?- and vaguely heard something shatter as the world shifted sideways. However, such thoughts were pushed aside as she instinctively turned mid fall and managed to strike out hard with her heel. There was a muffled curse beside her, and for a split second she felt a spark of satisfaction course through her at the pained sound- but then she quickly realized kicking her assailant didn't necessarily cease her face first plummet to the ground. She cringed, preparing for impact, and the next thing she knew she was slamming violently into something hard, sturdy, and… warm?

Blinking the stars from her eyes, Mikasa heard a soft groan from under her. Wincing, she lifted her head to yell at the person who had so kindly helped with her descent, only to lock gazes with a pair narrowed blue eyes. A rather _nice_ pair of blue eyes, actually. She blinked again, realizing how close their faces really were, and leaned back to give her assailant room to breathe, though not nearly enough space for him to strike out at her. He'd just about strangled her, after all; no point in taking chances.

"Shit, you're heavier than I thought." A low voice said roughly, and it took her a moment to realize it came from the man beneath her. For a second she stared at him, because she definitely hadn't expected him to say _that_ , of all things. Then her stare morphed into a glower.

"What the hell were you doing?" she demanded spitefully, glaring down at him, "Trying to choke me?" The man scowled, though otherwise remained unimpressed as he responded.

"Trying to keep you from getting a _concussion_." At her confused glance, he pointed behind her. As if one cue, another earsplitting crash resounded, and this time she could see a volley of glass bottles being thrown through the air… where her head had been minutes before. Huh, well wasn't that nice. The hoots and drunken hollers accompanying those strewn beer bottles seemed to agree with her.

"Great. They have projectiles now." She muttered, more to herself than to him, and if she hadn't been so focused on the broken glass she would have seen the corner of his mouth turn up minutely.

"I can see that." he said, before giving her a pointed look. "Could you get off me now, before you end up crushing my diaphragm?" She looked back down, realizing that she was still pressed rather intimately against him, and quickly moved to untangle herself.

"Sorry," she muttered quickly, feeling the slightest bit guilty for unintentionally mauling the guy. Sitting up, she took a quick glance at her surroundings and found herself behind one of the side counters, nearly completely out of sight from the other patrons. She peered at the nearly empty wine bottle next to the seated man, along with a few glasses stacked neatly around him, and wondered how long he sat here drinking- and, more importantly, how he managed to remain sober (being a bit of a light weight herself, she was a little envious of anyone who could stand more than two glasses of alcohol).

"You could have avoided that yourself, you know," he suddenly remarked, drawing her eyes to him. "You should pay attention to your surroundings once in a while," he continued, sounding almost uncaring even as his eyes quietly searched her for any signs of injury, "Being so one track minded will only risk a hole in your skull." Brows furrowing in a mix of anger and slight embarrassment, she gritted her teeth. Was it possible for a person to be naggingly rude and oddly concerned at the same time? Apparently so.

"Although I appreciate the concern, I can handle myself perfectly fine." She said steadily, standing to her feet and crossing her arms.

"Obviously." The comment was completely sarcastic, almost mocking, and her eyes immediately narrowed in response; suddenly she was feeling a little less guilty. He gave her a look, one that told her he was purposely trying to annoy her. "What, not even a 'thank you' for a job well done?" She debated on whether she should show him her thanks by kicking his other leg- it would definitely be gratifying. However, if it was one thing Armin always told her, it was to be polite to anyone who deserved it, even if she had to swallow back her pride in the process.

Even if the guy was insufferable.

"Thanks," she muttered reluctantly- and more than a little irately. Deciding her pride was stung enough as it was, she grabbed her fallen pumps and turned to leave. She stilled, however, when she felt the man suddenly grip her arm, halting her. Mikasa faced him again, annoyed. "What now?"

"Stay for a bit." He said, motioning to a space beside him. She quirked a brow, frowning.

"And just why would I do that?" She asked, trying to tug her wrist free from his stern hold and failing. He tossed her a bored look.

"Because you've been the only descent company I've had for hours, and it's not like you have anything better to do." He stated impassively, "Unless you plan on standing in the corner for the rest of the night, too." Her eyes narrowed, annoyed. Vaguely, she wondered how long he had been watching her, then promptly shook the thought away.

"I have to find my friend." She stated stubbornly, motioning blindly to where Armin was hiding, to which the guy scoffed.

"You're friend's fine, he even snagged himself a guard dog." He jerked a thumb to the other side of the room, where she found Reiner protectively stationed beside Armin, the two blondes grinning about something or other. Shoulders relaxing, she pondered, belatedly, if she should be relieved that Armin was safe, or annoyed that Reiner had unintentionally stolen her job. Probably the former. Finding her escape effectively thwarted, she chewed her lip thoughtfully and glanced at the man next to her. He was irritating, definitely, but at least he was interesting- he'd be better company than any of her intoxicated friends, at the moment. It definitely beat standing around for another hour… Facing the shorter man, she debated on whether or not she should take him up on his offer. He looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

"Fine." Deciding she had nothing to lose, she sighed and nodded. It seemed she would ditch the grab-her-boys-and-run plan, at least for the time being. Seemingly appeased, he released his hold and watched as she gracefully folded to the floor. "I have time to kill, might as well spend some with you." He frowned.

"You're excitement is infectious." he muttered, and she couldn't help but smirk. If it was one thing they were evenly matched in, it would probably be their wit. The woman watched as he swiftly poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. She nodded in thanks before putting it aside, minding her tolerance, though other than an inquiring look he said nothing.

The next hour involved idle chatter and pregnant pauses, though oddly enough she found neither one uncomfortable. Topics ranged from hobbies to interests, never straying from conversation too long, and occasionally they argued over petty subjects big and small. Wry wit often made its presence known between discussions, though she supposed it was unavoidable when they were involved. He pointed out some of his peers, two of which included a hyperactive brunette and a reserved blonde playing a close game of beer pong, and she pointed out some of her own, namely her brother who was currently locked in a devastating chokehold by Jean (to which the man pointed out almost every flaw in the technique, whereas she loyally and dutifully defended them). It was weird talking to a complete stranger for nearly an hour, but it was pleasant, and she found herself enjoying his blunt company, both in conversation and silence.

It was during one of these silences that she decided to asses him from the corner of her eye, taking little notes on his appearance. He had a strong jaw and hard mouth, sharp eyes making his expression seem almost completely stoic if not for their occasional glimmer. Despite his almost authoritative demeanor, he was a few inches shorter than her, though it hardly made a difference. His dark hair was styled in an undercut- strangely fitting- and his clothes were almost inhumanly clean for someone who's been in a bar all night (how he managed to keep his white button up stain free, she'd never know). He was handsome, she decided, in a rough yet polished way; she didn't know how to explain it, exactly, though it didn't really matter- her eyes kept lingering on him either way, whether his looks were justified or not. And despite his blunt attitude and harsh tongue, he was surprisingly observant and quite a thinker- a good guy, she supposed. Her eyes caught on the stark white cloth hung loosely around his neck, and briefly wondered whether anyone wore cravats anymore in this day and age. Then again, it wasn't like she could judge; she was wearing a scarf in July ( and despite Krista's initial complaints, Mikasa found that no, the red didn't clash with her black dress at all). She was brought out of her inner musings when he suddenly spoke.

"You have a good right hook." The comment was so random that it took her by surprise (she found that the reaction was common in his presence). More so, he didn't seem to be the type to hand out compliments carelessly. She wondered if this was his attempt at conversation, instead of their previous bickering. She looked at him confusedly, watching as he took another sip of his drink. "Though you probably didn't have to knock them all out like that." She quirked a brow, curiosity biting at her.

"Exactly how long have you been watching me?" she asked suspiciously, and she watched as his eyes flickered to hers before going back to his glass.

"Long enough." he replied casually and shrugged, though he kept his eyes averted from her own probing gaze. She found this endearing, if not a little humorous.

"I don't like people I don't know touching me." She responded and gave him a look, to which he scowled.

"I can tell." He muttered, jerking his chin to his bruised ankle, though she remained apathetic.

"You deserved that." she pointed out, "Who in their right mind strangles a person mid stroll?"

"The guy who prevents possible brain damage, apparently." he stated, before giving her a dry look of his own. "And then he had to literally force the girl into thanking him afterward." he tsked in mock disappointment. "No class whatsoever." She scoffed, torn between being amused and annoyed.

"Says the man who dragged me to sit with him without even mentioning his name." She said, rolling her eyes as her fingers traced the rim of her glass. "It's a little odd, don't you think?" There was a small pause, before he spoke.

"Levi," he murmured, and at her curious glance he elaborated, "My name." She blinked, rolling it around her head for a moment, and found that she liked it. The name fit him, she thought, and she gave him a small smile. She brought her glass to her lips and sipped carefully before responding.

"Mikasa." He nodded, and with that two plunged back into their rhythm, snarky remarks and occasional insightful comments coloring their easy silences, and for the first time in a long time Mikasa felt at ease. Perhaps, she admitted, he wasn't so bad.

It wasn't until one thirty in the morning that her friends finally came crashing down from their high. Thankfully, at that point the bar (or rather, what was left of it) was nearly empty, so there were no more hitches from there on forth.

It took a bit of coaxing on her part and a few pleas from the nervous bartender- whose mustache seemed to have puffed up more than usual out of anxiety- but eventually she had most of them piled into the car within fifteen minutes (she absolutely refused to touch her destroyed, vomit induced jacket, and had forced Sasha to hold it since it had been _her_ boyfriend who had damaged it). When things had finally settled down, she reluctantly turned back to Levi to say goodbye.

"You know," she started thoughtfully, "you're not quite as insufferable as I thought," she conceded, smiling teasingly, "a bit pushy and more than a little annoying, but not insufferable." He rolled his eyes at that, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You're just as bratty as I thought." he deadpanned, ignoring her irritated glare, "Admittedly pretty and surprisingly good company, but still a brat nonetheless." She chuckled, slinging her purse onto her shoulder and grabbing her heels with the other hand (no point in wearing them this late, anyway). She motioned Sasha and Connie towards her car, receiving a thumbs up in response, and watched as Armin valiantly tried-and failed- to pull Eren out of his sleepy daze. Mikasa turned to face Levi again.

"This is goodbye." She said to him, shrugging. She fingered the strap of her purse, wanting to stall a little longer, realizing she didn't want to leave him just yet. A rare occurrence. The knowledge left her swimming in a barrage of mixed feelings, though her expression remained calm as always. The silence dragged on, and having nothing left to say, Mikasa shrugged, "It was fun while it lasted." She nodded to him and was about to turn away when he unexpectedly said something, so lowly she almost missed it.

"The fun could last a while longer." She blinked, eyes widening in surprise as she stared at him. The suggestion was said casually, almost offhandedly, but the underlining meaning wasn't lost to her; if she learned anything about Levi in the past three hours of his company, it was that he never said anything without purpose. He looked at her imploringly, heatedly, almost hopefully, and to her horror Mikasa felt a slow flush pool in her cheeks. Something buzzed pleasantly in her ears, a warmth suddenly enveloping her body, and this time it definitely had nothing to do with the limited alcohol in her system. For a split second the urge to say yes was hanging off the tip of her tongue, almost escaping her lips with a rush, and an excited thrum ran up her spine- before an image of an intoxicated Eren flashed through her mind. She sighed, feeling something sink in her chest. Responsibility tended to do that, she thought ruefully.

"I can't," She muttered regretfully, surprising herself by how much she truly wanted to accept his offer. The change in his demeanor was immediate, his posture stiffening for a moment before relaxing a bit forcibly; dissatisfaction was almost palpable in the air between them. Not quite meeting his eyes, she fished for the keys in her purse, pausing when she felt her familiar stack of business cards brush against her fingers. She peered at him apologetically, "I'm the designated driver tonight." He nodded.

"I see," he said with his usual impassive expression, though there was an almost indistinguishable pitch in his voice, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of disappointment gallop across his gaze before he straightened himself. He sighed inaudibly. "Goodnight then, Ackerman." An uncomfortable feeling unexpectedly crept into her chest at his departure, growing more pronounced as he nodded farewell and turned away. Pursing her lips uneasily, her hand suddenly snapped forward and caught his arm, just as he had done to her hours prior, and ignoring his questioning (and dare she say, hopeful) look she jerked him towards her brutally.

She wasn't exactly sure why she did it; perhaps she drank a little more than she had initially thought, or perhaps she simply enjoyed the senseless banter she'd had with him for a good portion of the night. Or maybe it was because she was inadvertently attracted to this man, to his sharp orbs and even sharper tongue, from his blunt words to gentle touch, and maybe she didn't quite want to end things so abruptly as she had originally planned. With that thought in mind she leaned forward and swiftly pressed her lips against his, savoring everything that was in that one chaste kiss.

It was quick, far shorter than what she deemed satisfactory, but even still she found the feeling electrifying through her, like a series of sizzling, pulsating sparks. She felt Levi stiffen beneath her touch, obviously caught off guard, before he let out a soft groan and pressed himself closer to her. She smiled, pleased, but just as he began to respond she pulled away. This was, after all, a mere tease. Smirking at his annoyed look, she pushed her business card into his palm insistently. "Call me." Seemingly appeased, his irritation faded before he leaned forward.

"I intend to." He murmured in her ear, an evident promise in his voice, and she couldn't stop the delicious shiver that ran up her spine at the sound. Glancing over his form briefly, she quickly reached out and tugged the cravat tied loosely at his neck.

"Just to make sure," she stated, unraveling the soft material from his throat, "I'll return _this_ ," she held up his captive cloth, steel eyes shining with mischief, "the next time we meet." And with that she turned on her heel and padded away, though not before she caught sight of his satisfied smirk.

"Hot damn, Levi!" she heard a voice exclaim behind her, and an image of the hyperactive woman Levi had pointed out earlier flashed through her mind. "Looks like I'm not the only one who scored big tonight!"

"Shut up, Four Eyes." she heard him mutter in reply, though there wasn't much bite in his words. He sounded rather contented with himself, actually.

She smirked, dragging an intoxicated Eren to the car, and found that perhaps the night hadn't been quite so terrible. Weaving the cravat rhythmically through her fingers, she allowed herself a smile. She'd have to thank Sasha later.

**Author's Note:**

> Sasha's the best unintentional wingman ;)
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcome. Thanks for reading!


End file.
